


Doughnuts and Daddies

by DeviantHufflepuff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental bed-wetting, Age Play, Age-Regression, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Blow Jobs, Body-Conscious Harry, Caregiver/little, Cuddles, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Emotional Baggage, First Time, HP Daddy Fest, HP Daddy Fest 2020, Harry Has a Daddy Kink, Harry Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Kink Shaming, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Nightmares, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Padfoot and Moony - Freeform, Pet Names, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Self-Hatred, Self-conscious Harry, Sleepy Cuddles, Threesome - M/M/M, Tickling, Triad - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24370534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviantHufflepuff/pseuds/DeviantHufflepuff
Summary: His fantasy was sweet, gentle, almost child-like—innocent. He did not need to cry or whine for attention, he had it. A strong tender man would take care of him, adore him, shower him with the affection and love he had been denied his entire life. He had always liked the idea of having someone to care for him, of being able to rely on someone completely. He wanted to go into a more innocent mindset and feel safe, knowing that he had someone else to make his decisions. Sometimes there were too many choices to be made each day, and they exhausted Harry.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin/Harry Potter
Comments: 31
Kudos: 451
Collections: HP Daddy Fest 2020





	Doughnuts and Daddies

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much Ami, for editing this fic! I could not have asked for a more incredible person to Beta this story! When I first sent it, this work was not the piece it is now, and the changes have been 100% for the better. You took my words and thought and helped me shape into a more cohesive, better story!
> 
> I am eternally grateful!

It had happened again. Harry extracted himself from his soaking wet sheets and reached over to his bedside table, searching for his glasses, before remembering he no longer needed them. He felt like a failure, a joke, an imposter in a hero's body. If only the wizarding world could see him now, sitting in a puddle of his own urine and soaked in a thick, cold layer of sweat from another dream about the bastard he had murdered over two years ago.

He made his way to his en-suite bathroom, moving quickly so he did not make a mess.

This wasn’t a new occurrence. At least once a week Harry would wake, distraught and soaked, shaking from the scenes he had been forced to relive. It had gotten better, he thought. He had stopped vomiting from the nightmares and his silencing charms no longer dismantled themselves, but he still felt sickened with himself.

Entering the bathroom, Harry stripped off his soaked pyjamas and threw them into the laundry basket, watching as they disappeared and went to get washed. Looking in the mirror, Harry was once again filled with disgust and hatred. The papers told him he was a hero, a heartthrob, someone to lust over, but he couldn’t see it.

A childhood of starvation and mistreatment had left him thin and small in every way. When he looked in the mirror all he saw were arms swung at his sides, looking like barren branches dangling in the wind. He thought his legs seemed so slim it looked as if they could snap at any moment. His chest bore the outline of Tom Riddle’s locket, a scar that would never heal, and his skin stretched thin over his ribs, pulled so tightly it looked like it could rip. And in between his hips lay his small cock; flaccid, useless, and ugly.

He felt emasculated; he couldn’t see the growth in his form that others could. The hair that covered his legs and groin went unnoticed, instead, he focused on his nearly hairless chest and bemoaned another thing he found lacking. He couldn’t see that he had grown broader; his chest had filled out and his thighs were thicker and more muscular from Quidditch. The scars that were small to others seemed like neon signs on his body. He couldn’t see that he was an average man, even the cock he insisted was ugly was only slightly smaller than average, standing at four inches.

Recently, Witch Weekly had written an article about him, alluding to his wand being the same size as his cock. He had wanted to cry. His eleven-inch holly wand seemed to mock him now every time he picked it up to use it. His friends and family had tried to make him laugh, thinking the invasion of privacy had been the cause of his melancholy, and that was definitely part of it, but their jokes had only made it worse.

“Only you would be mad about someone saying you have a big-arse cock. Come on mate, use it to your advantage. Witches will be lining up!” He remembered Ron going on and on about how he should enjoy that kind of press, but how could he?

Still looking at himself in the mirror, Harry realised he had started to cry again. This was a common occurrence as well, crying over every little thing like a baby. The idea of witches lining up held no appeal; he had tried with Ginny and Cho, but it had become very clear that a witch would not be able to fill the hole Harry felt in his heart.

After the war, Ginny and Harry had tried once again, but resuming their relationship had been impossible. They had both seen and done too much, they were completely different people than they had been and no longer fit. It was around this time that Harry learned something new about himself. A line of witches was not for him, but maybe a wizard or two would be nice.

In moments like this, Harry longed for someone, a person to hold on to when the world came shattering down around him, a wizard who would help him when he could no longer help himself.

Unable to stand the sight of himself any longer, Harry stepped into the shower and stood under the hot spray, allowing the water to wash away his tears and piss. Harry continued to clean himself, he washed the sweat and urine from his body using a soapy flannel.

As he moved between his legs, he could not help the scene in his mind; the moments he dreamed of, longed for, and knew he would never have. Instead of himself, a strong, kind man was cleaning him in a warm bath. Using the flannel his phantom saviour would caress him gently, rubbing the warm, soft fabric over his chest and arms, sweetly rinsing away the remnants of his nightmares.

His hair would be cleaned by large, strong hands. They would massage his scalp and tickle behind his ears while shampooing his messy locks. When it was time to rinse, his protector would block the suds from getting in his eyes and coo sweetly that he was a good boy and was doing well.

His fantasy was sweet, gentle, almost child-like—innocent. He did not need to cry or whine for attention, he had it. A strong tender man would take care of him, adore him, shower him with the affection and love he had been denied his entire life. He had always liked the idea of having someone to care for him, of being able to rely on someone completely. He wanted to go into a more innocent mindset and feel safe, knowing that he had someone else to make his decisions. Sometimes there were too many choices to be made each day, and they exhausted Harry.

As he thought about his dream man his cock began to stir, demanding his attention. Though this had happened many times, each time he touched himself he initially felt sick, perverted, disgusting. The Dursleys had made sure he knew what a deviant he had become when in his teens, they told him that boys who touch themselves go to hell; as if they didn’t already believe Harry would go to hell for being a wizard.

But he shut out the shrill voice of his past and grasped his aching member. He continued to think of his man; maybe when his bath was done, he would wrap him in a warm, fuzzy towel and carry him back into the bedroom. He imagined his man getting down on his knees and helping Harry into his pants, allowing Harry to place his hands on his shoulders while they were pulled up to sit on his narrow hips.

Next would come his trousers, warm and fuzzy, being pulled up his legs. He saw in his mind his man standing up and tickling his tummy, telling him to raise his arms. Then a T-shirt was placed over his head before the man picked him up once more and placed him on the bed. Once again, no need for Harry to ask. He was not in charge, this sweet man knew exactly what he needed and was happy to take care of him for a while.

Harry sped up his hand as it ran up and down the short length of his cock, pausing at times to rub his thumb over the head, spreading precum over the sensitive organ. In his imagination, Harry was spooned against his man who held him close, rubbing his hand over Harry’s body; his back, arms, legs, tummy, face. It was all so loving and beautiful, and so unattainable.

He felt his body tighten as his orgasm approached and Harry latched on tighter to his dream, allowing the thoughts to run away with him. He turned to look at his dream man and was confronted with a familiar face.

_“You are such a good boy for Daddy, baby.”_

The tight cord inside Harry snapped as he rode the waves of his orgasm, moaning loudly as pleasure coursed through his veins. Without his consent, he could hear the words spilling from his lips:

“Yes, Daddy.”

Opening his eyes, Harry watched as his cum ran down the drain, feeling disgusted with himself. How could he think about someone he knew in such an explicit way? That was not the relationship they had.

He finished rinsing off and walked out of the shower stall, refusing to meet his own eyes in the mirror. He quickly towelled dry, and crawled into bed, not bothering to put on new pyjamas.

Lying in bed he tried not to think of his dreams, his fantasy, the unending need he felt deep in his soul. But that seemed impossible, because all he could think of, like a video repeating itself in his mind, was his Godfather, Sirius, holding him tight and saying he was Daddy’s good boy.

* * *

He didn’t sleep much that night, the scene from his fantasy playing over and over. The longer he thought about Sirius, holding him, petting his hair, taking care of him as no one had before, the more awake Harry felt.

Around six Harry gave up and decided to start his day. Quickly throwing on clean pyjamas, Harry made his way downstairs to make breakfast for himself and the other members living in Grimmauld Place.

Walking down the newly renovated staircase, Harry was flooded with the memories of his previous stays in the once decrepit house. The summer before his fifth year, when he had arrived bruised from his most recent beating at the hands of his Uncle, convinced he would be expelled and have his wand snapped in half. Then once again when he was on the run, laying on the cold floor next to Ron and Hermione, certain he would die soon or worse, cause the death of more people he loved.

When he had moved back into his inherited home the Weasley’s, Hermione, Remus, and Neville had all come to help make the house habitable. Harry knew the Weasley’s needed the distraction, with Fred in a critical condition in St. Mungo’s, so he accepted their help.

Using magic this time had made the job much easier, as well as having the ability to bring wizarding carpenters onto the property without fear. After a few weeks of hard work, the Ancient house of Black was once again beautiful, though much more modern. Bill had come by early in the process to remove Walburga’s portrait from the wall, as it had been stuck with a permanent sticking charm, it had taken the curse-breaker three days to finally pry the portrait off the wall. The place she had once been had been knocked down, leaving the space more light, open, and inviting. The dingy brown walls in the foyer had been repainted with a lovely pale blue. The stairs and bannister had been fixed and painted white, then charmed to remain clean and protect against footprints.

But the masterpiece was the kitchen which was no longer in the basement, thankfully. Harry and Mrs Weasley had spent hours on it together one day, as Harry knew he would be cooking a lot, now that he was out of school and that he had the ability. The space was bathed in neutral tones, all warm wood, and tan paints. The countertops were a beautiful slab of granite, marbled white and tan, that was perfect for cooking and baking. On the opposite side, there were multiple stools set up, creating what Hermione called a ‘breakfast bar’. The appliances were all Muggle, though Mr and Mrs Weasley had taught Harry many spells to make them work better or faster. They were not usually used, but Mr Weasley’s experiments with Muggle technology had paid off.

This was his oasis. No matter how hard it was to get out of bed some days, or how much he hated leaving the house, he would always have time for his lovely kitchen. The rest of the house mattered very little to him. When the renovations happened he had told everyone to pick a room and do whatever they wanted with it. Between his inheritance, the money from his Order of Merlin, and the money left to him by families that hadn’t made it through the war (money he had quickly donated away when he had the chance), he had enough to make everyone’s individual guest rooms exactly what they wanted.

Making his way into his kitchen, Harry noticed the smell of fresh coffee and warm bread in the air. Turning the corner he saw he was not the only person up this early.

“Morning cub, we didn’t wake you did we?” Remus said with concern, keeping his tone as soft as possible. He was sitting at the bar with a cup of coffee in his hand and a slice of sourdough toast with raspberry jam on a plate in front of him.

He worried about Harry, knowing that the boy was not getting everything he needed to heal, but not knowing how to help. He knew Harry had nightmares most nights. Sometimes his silencing charms would dismantle themselves, so someone could come to Harry’s room and help him wake from his dreams. Other times Remus would take them down himself so he could hear if Harry needed him, hating that Harry would hide his pain away and not accept support. He knew how those dreams could eat you up inside, and he hated the idea of Harry being alone.

Remus had been up early as well. Though he too was plagued by nightmares, the cause of his early morning had been a lot more joyful, as it had involved the skin of his man sliding against his own and the overwhelming pleasure of sheathing his cock in a tight, hot, arse. He prayed Harry had not woken up to the sounds of two men moaning.

“No, I’ve been up for hours actually. If I had known you were down here I would have come sooner,” Harry said much to Remus’ relief, walking around the counter to pour himself a large mug of coffee. Where Remus drank his black, Harry liked lots of cream and sugar. Once Remus joked that Harry liked his coffee “As dark and bitter as your soul.” He had said this as Harry proceeded to pour half a cup of milk into his coffee after using four cubes of sugar.

Once situated with the coffee, Harry turned to the boule of sourdough he had baked the other day. Already, the round had been carved down to a nub, showing that the men that he lived with had enjoyed his latest creation. He decided he would eat something different and leave the remaining piece for someone else.

His cooking always made him feel good, like he could be useful for something. Aunt Petunia had made sure he could cook better than anyone, insisting that she would only feed her ‘Duddykins’ the very best. Though the memories of cooking for his relatives while he starved caused phantom hunger pains to grip his stomach, he loved that he could cook and clean for the people he lived with now.

“Whatcha doing up so early, pup?” A strong arm wrapped around Harry’s shoulder and all at once Harry was surrounded by the most intoxicating of scents; rich leather and the warm, sweet smell of cloves and cardamom.

“Morning Sirius,” Harry responded sheepishly, trying to hide the blush that stained his cheeks as he pushed the images of his fantasies away. He could not bring himself to move away from the heat of Sirius’ body though. Instead, he leaned further into the embrace, luxuriating in the moment for as long as it would last.

Sirius felt Harry snuggle in closer, and for a moment pulled him into his arms as tight as he could, taking in a deep breath of the clean, minty, earthy scent that seeped from Harry’s pores.

“Morning puppy,” Sirius said and pressed a kiss to Harry’s temple before moving away and walking over to Remus. It took strength to move from his little pup, but he could always sneak in some more cuddles later.

“Morning Moony,” Sirius grabbed the man's face and kissed him obnoxiously, making the weird sounds you would hear in cartoons until Remus pushed him away.

“You would think you’d be eager to please, instead of slobbering all over me, after being gone for two years!” he said, laughing and swatting at Sirius until he walked away, moving to the coffee pot.

The veil in the Department of Mysteries was, to no one's surprise, a mystery. No one knew how it worked, they only knew that it was a thin space between the living and the dead. On 2nd May 1998, when Bellatrix Lestrange joined the dead, Sirius Black was thrown from the veil and landed, unconscious, on the floor in front of a group of Unspeakables. For over three months Sirius was unconscious, being studied by the most accomplished Healers and Unspeakables in the world, until one day he opened his eyes again.

Harry had been in the worst place in his life at that time; he lived alone in a too-big house. Though Remus stayed occasionally, at the time he couldn’t leave Tonks and Teddy for too long. His nightmares had come every night and plagued him throughout the day, more so than they did at the moment. Worst yet, he’d felt empty. He could find no reason or will to live any longer.

Then Sirius had come back, and it was like the sun was shining for the first time in years. He had no memory of being dead, not even of the moment he shared in the forest with Harry before he was killed by Voldemort. He came back with the same sarcastic charm and warmth he had always had, and Harry had found a reason to stay alive.

Sirius’ return had changed so much all at once, the weak bond between Remus and Tonks had shattered as Remus’ mate returned to him. The impending divorce was messy, though they both stayed focused on their newborn son. Remus could not leave Sirius’ side, and neither could Harry, both needing the constant reassurance that Padfoot would never leave again. This is how Remus and Sirius had ended up at Grimmauld Place.

“You see how mean he is to me, Harry? I swear, a man comes back from the dead, and all he wants is a little love and affection, but NOoOOooo! Well, Harry, I think we should take this delicious bread you made and enjoy it elsewhere!” Sirius turned his nose up at the end of his speech and walked back to Harry, coffee and bread levitating behind him. He had tried to make a point, but the fact that both were barely containing their laughter diminished the effect.

“Can you be serious for one moment?” Remus asked, then quickly buried his face in his hands, knowing the trap he had fallen into.

“I am always Sirius, I have been seriously Sirius since the day I was born.” He turned to Harry and booped him on the nose, causing Harry to giggle in spite of himself.

The sweetest sound in this world, in Sirius’ most humble opinion, was Harry’s twinkling laughter. The rare sound was like a song from the angels, and it filled Sirius’ heart to the brim. Remus and Sirius had discussed their feelings on the matter multiple times and had promised each other that they would do anything in their power to make Harry as happy and giggly as possible because their boy deserved that, he had some many laughless years to make up for.

Though Sirius had made a show about leaving Remus behind, the three moved to the couch in the sitting room, Remus and Sirius sitting on each side of the couch with a space in the middle. Each morning Harry would sit on the floor in between them and eat his breakfast and drink his coffee, rarely joining the conversation unless he was asked a question. While he ate Sirius would usually play with his hair or Remus would gently scratch behind his ears. Then when he was done he would move to sit between the two men, soaking up any attention they would give him.

Remus was always more reserved physically with Harry, feeling he shouldn’t cross a line and afraid he would hurt Harry. The wolf inside him felt confused over his cub, the sweet smell of mint and citrus pulled the wolf close to Harry, but it couldn’t decide how the boy was part of its pack. Sirius was his mate, had been since the fifth year, and the wolf had known and pulled him close. He remembered how the erotic scent of leather had mixed with his own chocolaty scent; the combination still aroused him, acting as the most potent aphrodisiac.

However, things with Harry felt different. He both felt the desire to claim as a mate and to protect as a cub. He was intoxicated by his scent, but also soothed and calmed by it. The two men had never discussed how they felt about the young man, but Sirius had very similar feelings towards Harry—his deep-seated need to care for Harry in every way possible along with a strange unidentifiable attraction.

Because of Remus’ fear of crossing boundaries, Sirius was the main provider of hugs and cuddles because Remus was certain that if he had Harry in his arms he would not be able to pull away once more. Instead, Remus spoke to Harry constantly, praising his abilities, encouraging him in all his activities, and allowing the boy to vent whenever he felt comfortable, though it was a rare occurrence.

Remus watched as his two favourite men ate and drank, Sirius continued to tear pieces of bread and hand them to Harry until the sourdough was all gone. He made a showing of eating some, but in truth made Harry eat the majority as he hated seeing how thin his pup was.

“So pup, you never told me what got you up so early,” Sirius said, running his fingers through Harry’s curls. He could feel Harry’s body tense and he knew, without needing Harry to answer, that a nightmare had ruined his sleep once again.

“Nothing really, I was just up,” Harry lied unsuccessfully. He had never been good at lying, even when he was in dire situations with Uncle Vernon he had never been able to get away with it.

Remus could smell Harry’s fear in the air and wanted nothing more than to pick Harry up and soothe him gently, but he felt that he couldn’t, that it would be wrong, so he left it to Sirius.

“Pup, you know we always want to help you. We get nightmares too, bad ones. Mine are usually from Azkaban, and I get so scared I turn into Padfoot without trying.” Sirius pulled Harry close until the boy was resting his cheek on the older man’s knee. “If you have nightmares, call for us or just come to our room. We always have room and time for you.”

The three continued to sit and drink their coffee, but Harry stayed on the floor, leaning into his Godfather’s warmth. What Sirius had been saying was everything Harry had ever hoped for, but it wouldn’t be the same. These men were best friends with his father and lived with him. They didn’t really want to help him, they felt they had to.

Above Harry’s head, the two mates were sharing a silent conversation, using only their eyes to convey the love and concern they had for the sweet boy between them. Sirius watched both his boys closely as they both shut down a bit, fading into their sadness, and decided he would need to fix this.

* * *

_Harry was lying in the bath, feeling a soft, warm body behind him, cradling him gently. He felt the man’s cock pressing against his back, but he paid no mind to it, it was not his responsibility, all he could focus on were hands and a warm, soapy flannel._

_“You’re being such a good boy, Harry. Daddy is so proud of you, my little cub,” the man said in his ear before pressing a kiss to Harry’s neck._

_Harry looked back at his Daddy and smiled, seeing that his Moony was happy playing in the tub with him. He relaxed further into Daddy’s arms and enjoyed the freedom of giving up control, solely focusing on the feeling of his hands running all over his body._

_“Now Daddy needs to wash your pretty little cock, okay darling?” Remus asked this in a tone so sweet it made Harry melt further. He felt himself nod in agreement, excited to feel those strong hands on his most sensitive area_

_He watched in fascination as Daddy took his cock in hand and washed it, rubbing it gently, up and down, until it was hard and standing up straight. Harry moaned with each gentle tug, leaning further back into Daddy’s firm chest. He felt so loved, so cherished, so incredibly perfect at this moment. Only one thing could make it better._

_“Do you like it when Daddy washes your cock, Harry?”_

_The voice came from behind the two people in the bath, and Harry turned to see Sirius, holding the fluffiest towel he had ever seen. He smiled happily at the two men in the bath and Harry nodded in response to Padfoot’s question, whimpering loudly when Moony removed his hand from his cock._

_“Okay cub, time to get out of the tub and go to your other Daddy,” Remus said, kissing Harry’s brow again._

_Sirius moved to the tub and helped Harry stand, grabbing both of his hands and pulling him up so he wouldn’t slip. Then Sirius wrapped Harry in the towel, picked him up bridal style, and walked into the bedroom. He gently laid him on the bed, opening the towel to expose all of Harry._

_“Did Daddy Moony get you all excited?” He asked, rubbing his hands up and down Harry’s thighs, watching him squirm and whimper._

_“Yes, Daddy,” Harry replied coyly, using a voice sweeter than honey that he hoped would entice his other Daddy to take care of the throbbing erection he had between his legs_

_“Oh, baby, I’m sorry that was very mean of him. Let Daddy Padfoot take care of you.”_

_Harry was in utter bliss as he felt Daddy’s mouth engulf his cock, sucking it gently and continuing to rub his legs, spreading them wider and wider as he did._

_As Padfoot sucked, Harry looked up to see Moony beside him, cuddling into him and cooing softly in his ear while his hands rubbed his chest._

_“Such sweet little nipples, cub. Do you like having your nipples played with while Daddy sucks on your sweet cock? Because I love it, you look so pretty right now cub, so sweet and cute like this. Come for me baby, come for your Daddies.”_

With a gasp, Harry jolted from his dream, waking to the overwhelming pleasure of his climax. For the last few weeks, Harry woke up every morning sticky and wet with some form of a bodily fluid; sweat, urine, and more often than not, semen. His nightmares had been replaced, on the evenings he did not dream of Voldemort and Deatheater, he dreamed of his Daddy. But tonight had been different; before, the dreams had been less graphic featuring only Sirius, but tonight was so much more.

He couldn’t understand what was wrong with him. Why did he think like this? Why did he want this? He hated that he was always a freak; too needy, and selfish. He had a good thing with both the men in his home, they were kind to him and cared about him, but his fucked up mind had to make it sick and perverted.

He had never heard of anyone else having these kinds of thoughts, so he assumed, like everything else in his life, that they were abnormal.

He thought about Aunt Petunia, talking about the ‘deviant little monsters’ at the shopping mall. Two boys holding hands in public was considered obscene to the woman, but Harry knew she was wrong. Men loving each other was okay, Sirius and Remus loved each other more than anyone Harry had ever known. But what Harry wanted was wrong, he wanted both of them and the things he wanted from them were disturbing and would likely make any man run as far away as they could.

Harry raised his hand to his bare chest, trying to slow his heartbeat to no avail. He then reached for his wand, which sat on his bedside table, and cast a heavy Scourgify charm, taking the sweat and cum off his body. It would never make him feel as clean as a shower, but he could not stand the thought of looking at his own body at that moment.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” he said aloud, raising his hand to wipe away the tears that had started to fall down his cheek. He could never have them, he couldn’t have them together or separately because they belong to each other.

Harry wanted to belong to someone, but it would never happen. Who would want a sick, perverted freak like him?

He hadn’t noticed when his tears had turned to sobs, but the sound echoed through the halls to the ears of a large black dog, who just a few hours before had dismantled the extensive silencing charms that had been placed on Harry’s door.

Padfoot walked out of his room, leaving Remus snuggled under the covers, to check on Harry. He shifted momentarily into his human form to open and close both bedroom doors but transformed back into his dog form when he entered Harry’s room.

Padfoot gently climbed onto the bed and nosed at Harry’s cheek, licking the tears away and making his presence known.

“Padfoot?” Harry asked, looking into the dog's eyes and raising a hand to rub behind the hound’s ear.

Padfoot laid his head down on Harry’s chest, letting the boy focus on his warm fur and calming presence. All he could think about was his poor, sweet, little boy who had been forced to deal with too much. His heart broke each time Harry would hiccup between sobs. On occasion he could pick up some small words; freak, perv, sick, disgusting, and ugly were repeated over and over again.

Each time he heard his pup say that, Padfoot would whine and lean closer to the boy's face to plant a wet, sloppy kiss to his cheek.

The benefit of Padfoot was that he was not Sirius Black in these moments. Though he still had the mindset and facilities to understand his surroundings, people did not see the dog and the man as the same being. They could relax around Padfoot, open up, cry, and let their shields down.

He had been doing this for Remus since he returned; when the nightmares came Padfoot was there to make everything better. He had been reluctant to do this for Harry without talking to him first, but he couldn’t stand by any longer. His pup needed him.

Gradually, Harry’s breathing slowed to an appropriate pace and he was able to stop his sobbing, though tears still flowed down his cheeks. The boy’s hand stayed in Padfoot’s fur, scratching him behind the ears then petting the fur back into place.

“I’m so fucked up, Padfoot. Such a freak, just like my Aunt and Uncle always said.” Harry pulled the dog tighter into his arms, allowing his tears to fall into the black fur.

The dog whined and nuzzled in closer to his pup. How could Harry see himself this way, when in Sirius and Remus’ eyes he was perfect, the light of their lives, their little pup?

He stayed at Harry’s side all night, protecting him and comforting him as best he could. After an hour or so, Harry had finally fallen back asleep, snoring peacefully as he rested dreamlessly. Padfoot stayed awake, thinking only of the things he would do, would give, would sacrifice for his pup. There was no limit to the love he felt for his pup, there was nothing he wouldn’t do. He would love Harry in any and every way he needed.

* * *

When Harry woke, he was surrounded by the sweetest warmth imaginable. The bundle in his arms was softer than the nicest blanket and smelled better than freshly baked bread. Harry was determined to not open his eyes, knowing deep in his heart that this feeling must be a dream, the best dream he’d had in years, and did not want to be parted from this blissful moment.

It wasn’t until something wet and coarse ran across his cheek that Harry opened his eyes. Padfoot was snuggled up into his side, his long tongue hanging out the side of his mouth and his tail wagging franticly. He looked every bit an excited puppy, but in the harsh light of morning, Harry could no longer see the dog as just a dog. He knew the mind of a man, a man he loved in so many ways, lived within that dog.

“Morning Sirius. M’sorry I woke you up last night.” He said sleepily, trying to remember how the two had ended up in this situation.

Sirius transformed, and suddenly it was like Harry’s dreams had come to life. Sirius, like himself, was bare-chested, wearing a pair of flannel pyjama pants. He pulled Harry close into his arms, obviously not phased by the skin-to-skin contact, but Harry's skin sang as it was pressed against the flesh of his companion. He squeezed his eyes shut, working to control the beating of his heart, which was pumping faster and faster by the second.

“Pup, never apologise for needing help or having nightmares. I am always going to be here for you, little one. Remus and I are here to take care of you, not just to eat all your food.” Sirius pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead after saying this, hoping his words would set in.

He kept a close eye on Harry, hoping to gauge his emotions from his expressive face. He seemed deep in thought, but not upset or pained by the contact or the admission, so Sirius stayed where he was. He placed his hand on Harry’s bare back and rubbed gentle circles into the scarred flesh, hoping his ministrations could heal those old physical wounds. Harry moved closer to him, pressing more of his small frame against Sirius, and he hoped that meant he could feel all the love he was trying to pass to his little pup.

Harry had never known heaven and hell could be so close together until this moment. He loved this, Sirius’s chest pressed against his own, the sparse amount of coarse dark hair tickled his chest with each breath. The feel of Sirius’ strong, large hands on his back was like a calming balm to all his worries, at least for a while.

Harry felt himself begin to harden as he continued to concentrate on the delicious feeling of closeness he had never had before. He knew he needed to turn away, he could not allow Sirius to see how this affected him, but the thought of leaving his warm embrace felt like a knife in Harry’s heart.

“It’s okay to cry, pup. Cry all you need, I am right here. I will do anything for you, little pup, always. I just want to make you happy.” Sirius continued to speak along those lines as he felt tears hitting his shoulder. Their chests were pressed against each other and Sirius could feel each deep inhale Harry took as he worked to centre himself.

Harry pulled away after a short while, his erection painfully hard and leaking in his pyjamas. He took one last moment to pull Sirius as close as he could before leaving his embrace. He wanted to stay where he was. He wanted to go back into those arms and ask, no beg, for all the things he had longed for, for his fantasies to be a reality, for Daddy to take care of him. He wanted to shut all his worries and responsibilities behind a large door for a while and just have someone take over, make his choices, and love him. But he couldn’t, because Sirius and Remus could never be his, they had already found the person who they loved and did not need Harry messing it up. So instead, he pulled away, mumbling about needing a shower and seeing Sirius downstairs for breakfast.

Sirius saw the moment Harry deflated. He pulled away and sunk into a deep pit of sadness before dismissing Sirius from the room. Sirius honoured his wishes, though he wanted to stay, to force his presence and affection onto the boy who desperately needed it, to show him how deeply Sirius loved him. But instead, he left like a dog with its tail between its legs, and went back to his room.

Lost in thought, he forgot to be gentle with the door. The loud noise woke Remus, who jumped and grabbed for his wand, training it at Sirius.

“It’s alright love, it’s just me,” he said, cursing himself for being so careless. He knew that Remus still reacted as though he were at war, he and Harry both had these tendencies. Loud noises always caused both men to jump and grab for their wands. Usually, someone ended up being hexed.

“Why are you up so early, Pads?” Remus had turned over and snuggled deeper into his pillow now that he knew there was no danger present. However, he knew he would not be able to get back to sleep. Something just felt off. It was obviously too early, the wolf's internal clock always woke him around 6 or 7 am. He couldn’t think of a time Sirius had ever been up before him—something was wrong.

Sirius walked over to the bed and pulled back the soft, cotton blankets, making space for himself to cuddle up to Remus.

“I stayed with Harry last night. I think he had a nightmare, I heard him crying his eyes out and just went to his room. I stayed as Padfoot until he woke up this morning. Moony, you should have heard him, he kept calling himself a freak and that he was fucked up. It was heartbreaking, Moons.”

Sirius held his mate tighter. Though Remus was taller, Sirius loved these moments when he got to be the big spoon. It was rare that Remus would let it happen, but it always soothed Sirius when he felt helpless.

“You stayed with him the whole night, Pads? I don’t think that’s appropriate,” Remus said, voicing his genuine concern despite a piece of him, Moony, raging at the thought of his mate getting to comfort his cub without him. That was Moony’s job; to love, protect, comfort, and so much more, he should have been there.

Sirius felt his statement like a slap in the face. “Remus, he needs us. He needs to feel loved and cared for because no one has ever made him feel that way before! He hates himself and all you can think about is if it's ‘appropriate’ for me to be there for him?” Sirius left the bed quickly, got dressed, and walked out the door. He needed to cool off before he said something he regretted.

Leaving number twelve, Sirius Disapparated, thinking he would pick up breakfast for his boys, even if he was mad at one of them. He knew Remus had a point, the position he and Harry had been in had not strictly been appropriate, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was Harry. His boy needed him and so he was there.

Remus was left alone in bed to think about Harry. Was he being harsh with Sirius, yes, but he felt he needed to be. It took everything inside of him to stay away from Harry sometimes. He would think about scooping the young man into his arms and just holding him for hours, petting his hair and taking care of everything he could need.

But he couldn’t, it wasn’t right. The love he felt was more than parental—which is the only kind of affection he should be showing the boy—and so wrong on so many levels. He had been his teacher and his father’s best friend, he reminded himself. He had so many reasons to keep a bit of distance.

A knock at the door startled him from thoughts of his boy, and not a moment later did Harry stick his head out past the door.

“Sorry, Remus, I was looking for Padfoot. I thought he’d be downstairs,” Harry said shyly, a light blush on his cheeks. Remus looked down and noticed his bare chest was exposed as he had slept topless in boxers. He quickly pulled up the blankets to cover himself, missing the way Harry frowned, wishing he could continue looking at the beautiful man's body.

“He probably just went out to grab something, he’ll be back soon. Do you need him for something or can I help?” Remus watched Harry have an internal struggle, not knowing what to say.

Harry had come looking for Sirius, thinking he might apologise again for waking him. But he had also been looking for more hugs, more reassurances. He wanted to be wrapped in warm, strong arms and told he was ok, he was loved, he was special.

Unbeknownst to him, Harry had begun to cry again, and Remus quickly threw back the covers and moved to Harry’s side, confused by the sudden display, but determined to help in any way he could.

“Oh cub, it’s okay. I’m here, let me help, let me take care of you,” Remus said, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder. The words were both his and Moony’s, both sides of him; creature and human, longing to care for the boy in front of them.

The next moment, Harry was in his arms, sobbing into his shoulder. He did not seem to care that Remus was only in boxers or that he was drolling and snotting on the man's bare skin, and to be honest, at the moment Remus couldn’t care either.

Moony hummed contentedly in Remus’ mind. His cub was exactly where he was meant to be, safe in his arms. Remus felt powerless to the pull of his wolf, who was lifting his cub and carrying him over to his bed.

Moony placed Harry down, seated beside him instead of on his lap as he wanted—a small victory for Remus as he fought to keep a small sense of decency. He still held him close though, his cub, still distraught and crying onto his shoulder, was clinging to him like a lifeline.

“I’m here little cub, Moony’s got you.”

Harry cried harder. When he had been lifted over to the bed he had once again felt like his dreams, his fantasies, his deepest desires were coming true. When he was seated at Remus’ side he was pulled so close he could feel every contour of Remus’ muscles. He felt Moony’s calloused hands on his bare arms and wished they would move under his shirt to rub his back or stomach.

“Help me, Moony,” he said. His small voice so broken and quiet that if Remus had not been a werewolf, he may have not heard him. Instinctively, Remus leaned back, bringing Harry back further into the bed, though they did not lay down as Remus did not want Harry to choke.

The two leaned back against the headboard, though Harry was leaning more on Remus then the actual furniture. His face still buried in Remus’ shoulder; tears and snot pooling on the man’s skin.

Remus raised his wand and summoned a flannel from the en-suite and cast Aguamenti and a warming charm on it.

“I need you to look up, cub.” Remus worked to keep his voice as gentle and soothing as possible as he took care of his cub. Slowly, Harry extracted his head from its place tucked into Remus’ shoulder, though he refused to move further away from the man. He knew his feelings were wrong but he didn’t care, if this made him a freak then he would deal with that later, but he couldn’t pull away from this, it was too good.

Remus raised the warm wet flannel to Harry’s face and began wiping away the sweat and tears that were crusting onto his skin.

“Good boy, you’re doing so well, Harry. Moony’s got you, let Moony take care of you.” The words fell from Remus’ lips without his express permission. He was no longer in control—Moony was.

Harry looked up into Remus’ eyes, noticing that the yellowish tint he had close to full moons was present, and smiled. Someone was taking care of him, loving him, helping him. Harry held tighter onto this man, he couldn’t let this slip, it was too perfect.

This was everything he had ever wanted, even with one piece, or person, missing. Harry focused on the gentle way Remus cleaned him and wondered if it would feel this wonderful elsewhere on his body. Would he enjoy feeling the flannel being used on his chest, teasing his nipples until they were hard? What if Remus travelled lower, caressing his cock and balls, holding the small package in his large hands? Or if he went even further, to clean the tiny pink pucker of his arsehole, coaxing it open to accept his cock.

Remus continued washing Harry’s face, even pausing to help the boy blow his nose, before he noticed a change in the air. A new scent hit his senses.

Harry was aroused by the situation.

Remus was at a loss, but Moony could not have been more pleased. The rational part of Remus’ brain was running on overdrive, trying to figure out the appropriate reaction. He hadn’t noticed he had frozen until he heard a soft whimper beside him.

“Please, don’t stop. Don’t be mad at me.” Such a deep sorrow was written across the young man's face, he no longer looked like a twenty-year-old war veteran, he looked so young and fragile, so desperate and distraught.

Remus did not know what to do. What was right in this situation? He had just chastised Sirius for ending up in a similar position, how could he continue knowing how his actions made Harry feel?

Remus worked to justify Harry’s response—it's just a normal physical response. He knew Harry had never gotten the love he had deserved, he was never hugged enough and was rarely held in his childhood, it made sense to Remus that this form of contact would be overstimulating to the touch-starved man.

“It’s okay, I could never be mad at you,” Remus said and continued to rub Harry’s back as he had been asked. “Sometimes that just happens, and it’s completely normal.”

Harry felt like his heart was soaring. Remus said that he was normal, that wanting the man in bed with him was normal. He still had reservations about everything else he desired, but at this moment he believed he had learned one thing—Remus wanted him too.

Harry decided to be bold and moved his hips closer to Remus, allowing his erection to press against the man's thigh. He stared up with pleading eyes. He needed Moony to take care of him, love him, save him.

“Please Moony, touch me. Please.” All inhibitions were gone as he begged for Remus’ touch, he had never needed anything more in his life.

“Harry—” Remus tried to take control of the situation, but he was losing his battle quickly and was cut off by Harry before he could refuse.

“Just keep rubbing my back, please?” Harry shifted so his T-shirt raised up a bit, showing his scarred flesh to the werewolf. He was confused, he thought this was okay, that he was normal. Why was Remus pulling away, had he done something wrong?

He looked up at Remus and deep in his heart, he knew he was right. He could see a fire behind those golden orbs, desire was potent in the man’s expression, he was just being cautious.

How could Remus refuse when faced with such a heartbreaking sight? The tears in Harry’s eyes, the deep scars on his back, the desperate whining of his plea. Remus tentatively raised his hand to caress the boy's marred skin, acutely aware of the way Harry’s breath hitched in surprise.

The two continued to lay together, in relative silence, the only noise being the contented hums and soft moans coming from Harry, who was blissed out from the sensation of being petted by Remus.

The older man was conflicted, he needed to end this. He felt like he was taking advantage, that he was too inappropriate. Just then the bedroom door opened.

“I picked up doughnuts and…” Sirius stopped talking abruptly. A part of him wanted to scream at Remus for accusing him of being inappropriate this morning, but one look at Harry’s face, and he knew he couldn’t do that. He knew exactly what his cub needed.

“Was Moony taking care of you while I was gone, pup?” Sirius asked, fighting down a laugh when Harry nodded in response, a silly, sad smile on his face.

Sirius walked over to the bed, stripping off his T-shirt as he walked, and laid down next to Harry, spooning him tightly and laying his hands on Harry’s flat stomach.

Harry let out a low moan when Sirius’ skin joined Remus’. The feeling of both men touching him left him breathless, shaking, and desperate for more. His skin was on fire, a blaze that had been burning for weeks as he dreamed of his Daddies, and the only thing that could cool the flames was the feeling of the other men’s skin on his own.

Remus was shocked by this, it was wrong, so wrong, but it felt so right as well. Like it was their job to take care of Harry’s every need.

“Well, that was very nice of him, little puppy,” Sirius spoke directly into Harry’s ear and pressed a kiss to Harry’s temple. Harry shivered at the sensation of Sirius’ hot breath on his skin and a contented sigh escaped the young man's lips.

“Sirius—”

“No, Moony,” Sirius cut him off, his hands never leaving Harry’s body. “I don’t care if you think this is wrong or right because it doesn’t fit into a neat little box. Look at Harry, our boy, he needs this. He needs us. I think he should have everything he could ever need or want, don’t you?”

Remus continued to watch as Sirius moved Harry, he was no longer laying on the bed, but was now lifted onto Sirius’ lap with his feet pointing towards Remus.

“This is what you need, isn’t it Harry? You need us to take care of you, love you, touch you, make you happy.”

Harry nodded, wanting nothing more than to feel the two sets on hands on his skin again. He wanted to be surrounded by both men, drowning in their love and affection.

“Oh no, Harry. I need you to tell me. If this is what you want, if you are absolutely certain, I need you to tell me and Moony.” Sirius knew his words could be seen as teasing, or dominant, but his true intentions were quite plain. He needed to make sure Harry knew what he was getting into, that was fully present and lucid, not in a separate headspace. He wanted Harry, all of him fully, and he needed to hear the young man's enthusiastic consent before he could.

“Yes, I want you!” Harry said. He had never been so certain about wanting something in his life. He no longer merely ‘wanted’, he needed them.

“Two men might be a lot pup, I don’t want to scare you. Are you sure, Harry?” Harry began nodding, and so Sirius continued his questioning. “Do you want Remus and I to take care of you? To make you feel so good?” Now Sirius was teasing Harry a bit, but even the flirtatious teasing was done with purpose, the need to hear once again that Harry wanted to feel both man touching, tasting, and pleasing him.

“Yes, please D... Padfoot.” Harry said this in an affected voice, his tone sweeter and softer, but it sounded so right. Harry had never heard more beautiful words, he was so happy he almost slipped and said the forbidden D-word.

Sirius paused and stared at Harry, watching as his cheeks turned an even brighter red. He had heard that first syllable before Harry had changed his mind, and the thought intrigued him. He had never been called Daddy before in bed, Remus was far too dominant as the Alpha of his pack, to desire using that endearment. But, he was quite sure Moony would love being called Daddy, having the sweet young man between them call out the word as he was overcome with ecstasy.

“Oh no, pup. You don’t want to call me that. Tell me what you really want to call me.” Sirius' heart was fluttering fast, hoping Harry would take that final leap.

“I can’t,” Harry whined. What if they laughed at him, or worse, what if Sirius stopped what he was doing? What if he immediately took his hands off of Harry? Harry didn’t think he could survive.

Sirius paused in understanding. Each word from the night before came flooding into his mind—freak, perv, fucked up. This was a hurdle for Harry, to learn that his sexual preferences and desire were wonderful and nothing to be ashamed of. So, Sirius decided to show him.

“Oh, pup. It’s okay, there is no reason to be embarrassed. Daddy’s got you, little pup,” Sirius cooed sweetly, luxuriating in the sharp inhale from the man beside him before Harry nuzzled further into Sirius’ chest, a contented smile on his face as Sirius continued to caress his imperfect skin.

Remus watched with a mixture of jealousy, awe, and disgust; not at the scene before him, but in himself. He wanted to join, wanted to lavish both the people in bed with him with love and affection. He wanted to wrap Harry in his arms and kiss every inch of his body, paying special attention to each scar and exposed bone.

Harry felt a weight lift off his shoulder. He had his Daddy, not in his mind or when he was sleeping, but in the flesh, holding him tightly, loving him.

“Arms up, pup. Let's show Moony how pretty you are.” Sirius pressed a kiss to Harry’s neck before pulling back slightly to allow Harry to lift his arms.

“Do you like that, pup? Do you like being called pretty?” Sirius knew some people would hate that, mostly men, so he felt he should check. To him, Harry was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen; so sweet and adorable in every way.

Proving his point, Harry nodded and smiled shyly before leaning into Sirius a bit further.

“I like that Daddy thinks I’m pretty. I want to be a pretty boy for my Daddies.” Harry watched as Sirius’ eyes widened. He heard a growl rumble from across the bed and turned to see Remus staring intently at both men.

Knowing he had a captive audience, Harry looked at his Daddy Padfoot and raised his arms above his head, excited to feel more of both men on his skin. Slowly, Daddy lifted his shirt over his head, not letting it get stuck on his face for too long.

“Good boy, so pretty.” Sirius resumed running his hand over Harry’s back, his right hand moving to reach for Remus’.

“Harry, don’t you think your other Daddy should join us?”

Harry nodded and looked at Remus expectantly. He tried to make his face as appealing as possible, widening his eyes and pouting his lips a bit, hoping to look sweet and sexy.

With those words, Remus’ resolve shattered. He could not keep himself from his pack, his boys. They needed him; needed his love, his affection, his body, and his strength, and he would not refuse them any longer.

“Sirius, lay Harry down between us, won’t you?” Remus’ voice came out as a velvety rumble, thick with lust and desire.

Harry was moved from Sirius’s lap to the soft bed. He whined slightly at the loss of contact until Remus began exploring his body. Rough large hands tweaked his nipples and soft moans fell from his lips, teasing fingers brushed over the edge of his trousers, never going lower than the fabric, no matter how much Harry wanted it. And all throughout their physical exploration, the two men spoke the sweetest words directly into his ear.

“So good for us little cub, such a cute, pretty boy for us,” Remus would say as his tongue ran over the shell of Harry’s ear. Remus watched Harry squirm and moan, so incredibly turned on by the innocents of the man he was pleasuring. His own erection painful in his pants, but he tried to ignore it as best he could and focus solely on Harry.

“So sweet, so perfect. We love you so much, pup. We’re going to show you how much we love you, Harry.” Sirius would coo as he kissed the old scars on Harry’s arms. A puncture from a Basilisk fang, a straight line made by Wormtail, and many burn marks from cooking at a young age. Harry’s body showed a map of his past, and Sirius kissed over each scar, hoping his lips could rewrite history for his pup.

Remus moved lower, desperate to taste the dusky pink nipples standing at attention. They looked delectable, so pert and perfect for Moony to suck, lick, and nibble on. When the small bud was engulfed in Remus’ mouth, Harry bucked up, groaning loudly at the sensation.

“Please Daddy, so good, ah fuck.” Harry could barely recognise his voice, it was breathy and high, and to him, it sounded sweet and sexy. For the first time, he liked something about himself.

They had touched so little of him, and already he felt like he was on the edge. His body seemed to be vibrating under their ministrations; he twitched and writhed with pleasure as they played his body like a finely tuned instrument. His Daddies knew exactly what he needed, what made him moan and gasp in pleasure.

“Do you like that baby? Pads, you should taste, I don’t think I have ever had anything sweeter,” Remus teased before moving back to suckle on Harry’s hard nipple. He felt rather than saw when Sirius joined him, feasting on the boy’s perfect tits, because Harry almost flew from the bed, screaming with want and lust.

“Yes, fuck Daddies! Ugh.” Harry could not stop the litany of moans, groans, swears, and pleas from escaping his lips. His mind was blank, the only thing he knew was pleasure, affection, and love.

Sirius couldn’t help but agree with Remus, he had never tasted anything better, but he was sure he would before the end of the night. As he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the pink nub on Harry’s chest, he moved his hands lower, skimming the edge of the boy’s bottoms.

“I think these should come off, don’t you baby?”

Sirius expected enthusiasm at the prospect of being bared to the two men Harry was calling ‘Daddy’, but Harry seemed conflicted.

“Pup, if you aren’t ready that’s ok, we can stop.” At Sirius’ words Remus detached himself from the nipple he was lavishing with attention to watch his cub, trying to gauge his reaction.

Harry panicked, “No, don’t stop… I just…” Harry didn’t know what to say. Would they be disappointed that his cock was small, would they laugh and leave him? He didn’t know for sure, but looking at his Daddies, he took a leap of faith.

“It’s small.”

Both men looked at each other and then returned their gaze to Harry and smiled reassuringly.

“That’s okay, cub. I’m quite sure we're gonna love it. That’s what Daddies do, we love our pup’s sweet cock, no matter what size it is. We give it sweet kisses and hold it tightly. It’s one of the many ways we can show you how much we love you, would you like that?” Remus said in a deep rumble.

Sirius nodded along to Remus’ statement, he couldn’t care less about size, he just wanted to pleasure the man between them, to watch him writhe in ecstasy, knowing it was him and his mate who brought Harry that exquisite feeling.

Harry nodded enthusiastically and allowed both men to help him out of his trousers and pants. Finally freed, Harry groaned in relief. He looked up at both men, still apprehensive of what they might think, only to see them overcome with desire.

Four inches of flesh, glazed with precum, stood proudly between his thighs, but to Remus, it looked like the tastiest lolly Honeydukes could sell.

Together, both men crawled down the bed, each taking a side and licking up the shaft of Harry’s cock, all three moaning at the sensation. Harry had never felt anything but his own hands before, and felt he might come at any moment. The sight of his Daddies licking his prick was erotic and the feel was like nothing he had known before.

“See Harry, Daddy was right. This is the sweetest, tastiest, most lovely cock I’ve ever had. I think Daddy Padfoot likes it too.”

As Remus had been speaking, Sirius had taken the opportunity to take all of Harry into his mouth, sucking gently as the small member lay against his tongue. Harry was unable to control the bucking of his hips, groaning loudly, and occasionally whimpering a ‘Yes Daddy, more Daddy.’

Sirius would gladly stay there for hours, breathing in Harry’s scent and tasting the sweet innocence of his pup. He looked up to see how the young man was enjoying himself, only to be greeted with the sight of his mate and puppy kissing. The kiss was sweet and gentle, not tongues fighting for dominance or teeth, just the sweet sliding of lips and tongues.

Harry had never kissed a man before, only having kissed Cho and Ginny, both of which were disastrous. This was nothing like those experiences. Remus’ lips felt like silk sliding against his own, soft and smooth and so comforting. He did not feel rushed, the kiss was tender and relaxing and so beautiful to Harry.

“I knew you would have the sweetest cock, baby. Remus, are his lips just as tasty?” Sirius asked, knowing his mate would allow him to switch places. He longed to suckle on those sweet, rosy lips, to gently nibble on the supple skin.

“Like sugar, want a taste?” Remus moved to kiss down Harry's body as Sirius and he switched places, pausing to share a passionate kiss as they passed each other.

Remus came face to face with the small package and held it reverently in his hand; so pretty and pink, small and innocent, cute and mouthwateringly sexy.

“Daddy’s gonna suck on your pretty little cock, Harry. I want you to come down Daddy’s throat. I want to taste you, all of you.” Remus descended onto Harry, opening his mouth wide to take every last inch. He heard Harry’s startled cry and began bobbing his head, adding suction as he lowered himself and then running his tongue over the sensitive head of Harry’s shaft as he moved upwards.

As his mouth was focused on the beautiful cock between his lips. His hands worked to explore lower, coming to cup his sensitive balls, massaging them gently.

While Remus feasted on the delectable cock, Sirius focused on Harry’s lips, neck, ears, and nipples. He peppered open mouth kisses over his body and watched in fascination as his pup was driven to the brink of insanity while chasing his orgasm.

As the two snogged, Sirius began to feel Harry’s body tighten beside him and pulled away from his delectable lips.

“You heard Daddy, he wants to taste you so bad, baby. Come for Daddy.”

Those words were like scissors, cutting the tight cord in his body and letting him fall into an earth-shattering orgasm. His body lifted from the bed as he moaned and thanked his Daddies. He could not process the way Remus had begun to suck harder, or the feeling of Sirius’ fingers pinching his nipples, all he knew was that the two men beside him, his Daddies, loved him and made him feel so mind-blowingly good.

Remus swallowed Harry’s cum greedily, the sweet and salty substance coating his tongue and making him moan. He kept Harry in his mouth until he felt his cock begin to soften, only then did he move upwards and snog Sirius, knowing he would want a taste as well. His suspicions were confirmed when Sirius grabbed the back of his neck and thrust his tongue deep into the other man's mouth, moaning loudly as he took in as much as he could.

The two separated and moved to lay beside their sweet boy, who looked like he was on his way to unconsciousness, a goofy, sweet smile on his face.

“Did you like that, pup?” Sirius asked, pulling Harry close so he could spoon him and brushing his hands through Harry’s hair.

Harry nodded and sighed in contentment and scooched backwards into Sirius. He could feel the man's cock pressing against him and all at once felt bad. He reached behind him to touch his Daddy, but Sirius stopped him, interlacing their fingers to move them back to the front of Harry’s body.

“But you didn’t—”

He was quickly cut off by Remus, who was now laying on his side facing them both. “We only wanted to take care of you today, baby. Maybe later you can play with your Daddies’ cocks, but right now all we want to do is cuddle with our extra special good boy.” Remus had moved his hands to cradle Harry’s face and leaned forward to share a quick gentle kiss.

Sirius brought the blankets up around them to ensure Harry wasn’t cold and pressed a kiss into Harry’s hair.

“Go to sleep, pup. Your Daddies will be here when you wake up.”

“Okay, I love you Daddies.” Harry was already half-way to dreamland when he heard both men respond.

“We love you too, Harry.”

* * *

A few hours later Harry woke up. He felt boneless and warm, like he was floating on a cloud of contentment. He felt safe, cared for, and adored in a way he had never imagined possible.

Opening his eyes, he saw the two men at his sides. Neither of them was asleep and both of them had a doughnut in their hand.

“Well, look who’s up and decided to join us.” Sirius leaned down a bit and pressed a kiss to Harry’s head. He then reached to his bedside table and picked up a salted-caramel doughnut and handed it to Harry.

“I saw this and thought you would like it. It isn’t treacle, but it should hit close to the same spot, pup.”

Harry looked between the two men as he ate his doughnut, which, as Sirius had correctly guessed, he loved, searching for any sign of regret, embarrassment, or disgust. But he found none, they both looked relaxed and happy, content to spend the morning in bed with him.

“Why are you acting like this?” Harry asked, feeling confused. He had expected them to be angry, to feel like he had tricked them into participating in his sick fantasies.

“Acting like what, cub?” Remus threw his arm around Harry’s shoulder and pulled him closer, overjoyed with the new addition to his bed.

“Like I’m normal. Like I’m not a freak. After everything I said and did I don’t understand why you would still want to be around me.” Harry looked down at his legs, preparing for Sirius and Remus to confirm that he was a freak—but it never came.

“Oh, pup. You are not a freak or any of the other harsh things you are thinking about yourself. You are a sweet, kind, handsome man and we adore you. This… development in our relationship is new and we will have to navigate that together. There will be a lot of talking about the things all three of us like and dislike, our needs and our desires. But Harry, never doubt that Remus and I enjoyed ourselves immensely.”

Sirius had never felt more invigorated. He and Remus had a wonderful sex life; it was filled with love and passion and satisfied both of them deeply, but there had been a small piece missing. Neither man needed to be cared for, the occasional nightmare came about, and Sirius and Remus would comfort their frightened lover, but neither man liked to be coddled, protected, or tended to—something they both instinctively wanted to do.

“But, what I said. What I called you. Isn’t that wrong?” Harry held onto a glimmer of hope, maybe he wasn’t wrong. If Sirius was telling the truth, maybe this could be something great, something he desperately needed.

“No, it’s not wrong.” Remus pulled Harry closer and watched in adoration as Harry nuzzled into his chest. “Harry, I was hesitant to be with you, not because of any kink or desire you might have but because I was wary of taking advantage. I want you Harry, but I thought my age and our previous relationship would prohibit you from wanting Sirius and me.”

Remus was going to continue, ready to speak for hours about how much he adored Harry, but Sirius cut him off excitedly.

“I thought we made it very clear, but when you called me Daddy I thought I was going to come without even being touched. Nothing had ever sounded more sexy or perfect.” Sirius watched as Harry’s cheeks turned pink, but Harry still wouldn’t raise his head and look either man in the eye, feeling ashamed. “You wanting this, wanting two Daddies to love and care for you does not make you less of a man, it never could. You are the strongest, bravest, most incredible man I have ever met. But, you have had to live through so much, and had most of your innocence taken away from you.”

Harry finally looked up to listen, needing to see the emotion in Sirius’ eyes as he spoke.

“You haven’t had someone to love you and you, more than anyone I have ever met, deserve to be loved. You have never had someone to take care of you, as you have always been the person to take care of everyone else, whether it's cleaning for your abysmal relatives or saving all of wizarding Britain. You have sacrificed so much of your life, why shouldn’t you have everything you have ever wanted?”

Sirius smiled and exchanged a look with Remus asking for permission to continue, just in case he wished to interject.

“We would both love to be here for you. Some days that will mean you just need Remus and Sirius, but sometimes you will need a Daddy to take care of you. Both those things are okay—more than okay, they are wonderful. Because nothing would make Remus or me happier than making you feel good.”

Harry let Sirius’ words rattle around in his brain for a while. He had spent so much time hiding inside himself, not allowing himself to ask for the things he wanted. Now, he was being offered everything he could ask for on a silver platter, all he needed was the courage to accept it.

“So, you really want to be my Daddies?”

Remus picked up Harry’s hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to it and holding it tightly. “We would be honoured.”

Harry smiled and cuddled back into Remus’ chest, a moment later he felt Sirius behind him, wrapping his arm around Harry’s middle.

“Okay Daddy. I think I’d like that.”

They spent the day like this, just wrapped around each other, taking moments to feed Harry more doughnuts or reminding him to drink more water. Harry had never felt more content, free, of happy before in his life.

No one in bed thought about what was going on outside the safe walls of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, because all that matter was at that moment was three men laying together, basking in their new-found happiness.

Later, Harry would have more questions, concerns, and doubts as to how he fit into this new relationship, but today he was content to be surrounded by his Daddies and doughnuts.  
  



End file.
